In the Dark of the Night
by 75cookies
Summary: Newly bitten werewolf Merlin is packless and vulnerable. But not for long.
American trying to write British alert. I guess if you like it I'll write more

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Dusk was settling down for the night, its rosy pinks and golds slowly slipping into smokey purples and blues while stray stars began to sparkle here and there against their muted backdrop. As Merlin sat and watched this transformation, long arms stretching languidly over his head, he reflected on the day now drawing to a close and was forced to admit it had been a good one, all things considered.

Early this morning he'd managed to snatch almost an entire filet-o-fish out of a grubby McDonald's trash can just seconds after it was tossed away (never mind that _look_ from the cashier girl- at least his face wasn't full of acne). It had been a beautiful, sunny day (no doubt one of the last of the season) and he'd spent it in the park- pet two very friendly dogs- and this evening he'd pick-pocketed enough change from a sweet old lady (with only a marginal amount of guilt) for a burger and fries.

Merlin stretched out on the paint-chipped bench, watching the horizon fade into darkness, a feat of nature he'd never fully appreciated until recently. He almost wasn't hungry anymore, he thought to himself, crumpling the yellow hamburger wrapper up in one hand after he had licked the grease off, and the fact that he had a enough money left over for a cheap breakfast off the dollar menu in the morning actually gave him a reason to look forward to waking up.

He read a half interesting article about global warming off his bed covers right before he laid down on his bench, and (due to the CO2 he'd just been reading about, no doubt) the air was unusually warm for Autumn. Of course, he had no bloody idea the sorry state he'd be in once things actually started to get cold, and just the thought of it made his stomach clench uncomfortably around his pathetic dinner, but he tried not to think about it for now.

He drifted off quickly. One plus about being homeless- after the initial shock of sleeping outdoors wore off, and after he got used to sleeping on a hard surface, he could almost always fall asleep within a few minutes. Living outdoors, away from bright screens, and walking around all day, coupled with the constantly exhausting, never ending simmering panic of what he would eat that day, how he would survive another week, another day, another hour, made him so weary that he could fall asleep almost anywhere. The homeless, he'd learned, slept where they could, when they could. The _quality_ of the sleep, of course, was an entirely different matter.

You had to be careful out in the open. With your eyes shut and your guard down it was all too easy for someone else to come along and steal what little you had. He'd learned that the hard way two days in when all his cash was taken right out of his shirt pocket while he was asleep in an alleyway. No matter how desperate you were, there was always someone worse off, willing to risk their life for your shoes or your jacket or your sleeping spot. The need to be ready to fight or run was constant.

So when a long, hard, cold something poked him in the cheek he woke up fast, like a bucket of water had been dumped on him, sitting up with tense muscles prepped to run before his brain even knew what had happened.

"Alright, son, time to move along. This is a public park, you know."

Merlin blinked, his sluggish brain catching up to his racing heart. What was going on? He had no idea what time it was or how long he'd been sleeping, but the steel gray of the sky had turned to ink black. Luckily his eyes didn't need to adjust to the dark to see properly anymore, that was one plus at least, and his gaze immediately fell on the man in blue before him, wielding five o'clock shadow, a bored look, and a baton. Merlin could read his nametag clearly: Officer Brett.

Yes. A public park. And Merlin would hate to disturb all the patrons using it in the middle of the night... is what he desperately wanted to say. But he held his tongue. Police officers could add _so much_ unnecessary difficulty to your life, and so disliked (at least as far as Merlin's experience went) mouthy, disrespectful teenagers.

"Hey!" The man said sharply at Merlin's pause, "Didja hear me? You got somewhere to go or do I need to make some calls?"

Merlin drew a hand through his greasy hair with a sigh."Yeah. Yes. I mean. I have somewhere to go, thanks."

"Calls" only lead to shelters, government agencies, social workers that would plop him right back with his mother. He couldn't take that risk. _Mum_. Just the thought of her squeezed his heart so hard he thought it might burst.

Officer Brett looked dubious, a deep frown marring his face as he said, gruffly, "What are you doing out so late? Don't you think you oughta be home?"

"Yeah, I know, sorry." Merlin tried to look abashed. "I had a fight with my mum and stormed out. I was just cooling off, I didn't mean to fall asleep here, sorry. I'm going home now." He stood. It was his standard excuse.

"Well hang on, now… " Merlin watched Officer Brett's eyes rove over his old, dirty clothes, scuffed shoes, and newspaper bedcovers. He watched his annoyed expression soften to something a bit more sympathetic, an expression that neither looked better on him nor made Merlin feel any calmer. Apparently Brett saw right through Merlin and decided he wanted to be a social advocate tonight. "Well hold on, now, son, there are some really nice shelters in the area we can get a roof over your head, get you some hot food and maybe into some permanent housing..."

"No, no," Wide eyed Merlin waved his hands in front of his face, warding off the idea, "No, I'm not homeless, thanks. I live on the corner of fifth." It came automatically- it was where he lived in every city. "It's not far. I can walk." He was worried that oh-so-helpful Officer Brett might want to drive him home safe and sound. that would definitely cause some issues. Especially when he expected to see Merlin safely into a house that didn't exist. Or maybe did exist, but was owned by someone that wouldn't take too kindly to Merlin waltzing on in.

"Corner of- what? Where?"

Merlin ran.

"Hey!" Foot falls immediately followed him. The quick steady beats were directly behind him, matching the pulse of his veins. He could hear the footsteps change from the sharp slap of pavement to the muffled rustle of grass as he chased Merlin through the football field and toward the treeline. Merlin had to hand it to officer Brett here, he was in shape. A month ago there would have been no contest. A month ago he'd have been flat on his back right now. Now there was still no contest, of course, but for once in his life Merlin had the athletic advantage, and footsteps that were originally quite close by quickly began to fade.

It was exhilarating. Running- a task once so taxing, so deplorable, dragging his heavy body along, meter by meter, was now comparable to going for a stroll. It was easy. Enjoyable, even- a word he'd never dare use to describe any physical activity up until recently. Everyone always talks about your life changing in the blink of an eye, but it's all just fancy words and dumb cliches until you actually make the mistake of blinking and the solid ground you were standing on is whipped out from beneath you so fast you can't recover before you realize you're hanging on to the edge of a cliff with your fingernails scraped and bloodied, fighting with everything you have just to hold on.

He sunk into the motions of running like it was a hot bath, letting his legs and arms stretch out, sucking fresh air into a body that felt light, agile, healthy. He wasn't even panting; it felt powerful. Was this a runner's high? Or was this a side effect of something else? The footfalls behind him had long since stopped; apparently Officer Brett's desire to serve the community didn't even stretch one mile.

He lost himself to it, the simple, easy motion of one foot in front of the other, so effortless, so smooth. He could go on like this forever if he wanted, with no one to stop him and no one to catch him. The ground sped freely under his feet like it was moving on its own and he was simply picking up his feet for it.

But as time wore on he began to feel the protest of leg muscles, breathing cost far more effort, the act was became more chore than fun. He slowed to a walk, not panting but breathing hard, only a light sweat on his forehead. Logically Merlin knew he couldn't run forever, but it was still disappointing to stop. It was like getting hooked into a fantastic book and looking up only to realize four hours and 50 chapters had blown by. Stopping, he tuned back into the world, letting the static falling away from his brain with a little shake of the head.

He was on a dark country road lined with trees on both sides. As Merlin looked into the forest, they became denser and denser, shrouding everything in such stark blackness that even his keen eyes could not see more than a few meters. There were no road signs, street lamps, cars, buildings, noises, or other identifiable markers that tend to point towards civilization.

In more ways than one, Merlin was lost. He wasn't terribly bothered by this fact, as most of his time these days seemed to be spent in unfamiliar territory. However, the late hour and undeniable isolation of the forest was a touch unnerving. For a moment he considered turning back and heading toward what must be the city he'd just run from. He'd have to take the risk of being spotted by the officer again, now that he was on the man's radar, and he never wanted to stay in one place for too long, but if he could get his hands on a map or…

A tree branch cracked loudly in the woods and he jumped, and then flushed with shame.

"C'mon, Emrys, you coward…" he muttered to himself. Why was he frightened at every little sound when the most dangerous thing in the forest was _him_? Freshly determined, he strode forward once more.

He walked. And walked. And walked. He walked until he was bored of walking, then he walked some more. For a bit he kicked a pebble along with each stride of his foot to entertain himself, but grew tired of it after only a few minutes. He thought longingly of his home, his best mate Will, his nice warm bed, both waiting for him miles and miles away, and then quickly tried to forget about it. It hurt too much to dwell on.

He'd been homeless a month. Just shy of one, actually, but it already felt like a lifetime. What was it like to sleep in a warm bed? To feel safe at night? He remembered it just enough so that it stung. What did his mother look like, again? Was he this soon forgetting the details of her face, the exact lines of her crows feet, the precise slope of her nose, they way the corners of her mouth crinkled when she smiled?

Alive, he thought to himself, she looks alive, and then he dug his nails into his palm as hard as he could until the pain of it was worse than that in his heart.

Lights. Lights, and with it the familiar crunch of tires on road. Merlin stuck out his thumb and held his breath as a dark truck of indistinguishable color pulled close and, mercifully, stopped. There was a pregnant pause and the feeling of being evaluated before he heard the locks click open.

Merlin scrambled to open the door before they changed their mind and drove off. the overhead light was orange and dim with age, but reveals a paunchy, middle aged man in flannel with a trimmed moustache.

For a moment, each sized the other up, wondering how dangerous they were, wondering if they could fight them if it came down to it, if they had too...

Well, one of them wondered. One of them knew.

The man sniffed. "Where you headed, kid?" His thick southern accent broke the silence. the standoff was over.

"Anywhere."

"Looks like you're headed my way then."

Growing up, Merlin was like any other kid in a single parent household. Money was tight, but he was close with his mum. He knew how to do laundry properly, keep the house tidy, hoover. He was warned off the dangers of drugs, pyrotechnics, and strangers. So it wasn't without some amount of shame that he was sitting next to one right now, in the middle of the bloody forest, driving down the who-knows highway to nowheresville.

Times like this made him glad he couldn't see his mother and the disappointment that would be in her eyes if she saw him right now. He wrapped his arms around knees, hugging them close to his chest. Every so often he'd glance at the driver, senses hyper-alert, looking for danger, ready to fight if need be. But the man didn't look back at him, didn't try to engage in small talk or discover Merlin's life story (for which he was grateful). He just kept driving straight ahead, as if Merlin wasn't even there, a twangy country song about a lost love playing softly over the radio. Never having hitch hiked before, he didn't know if this was customary or not. He figured he may one day find out.

Watching the hypnotic swaying of the topless hula girl on the dashboard, the tightness that had his heart and limbs so harshly wound ever so slowly decreased.

Frankly, it as hard not to let his guard down. The inside of the truck was dark, warm, and cozy, making Merlin acutely aware of the slight chill that had crept into the air during the night without his realizing it. The seat was laid back slightly and had the sort of squishy softness that only comes with age. The soothing voice of Tim McGraw, even as it squeezed through the static of the radio, put his mind at ease, and every second that his benefactor failed to whip out a bowie knife and try to scalp him made it seem less likely to happen. So slowly that he barely realized it, Merlin's legs unfolded from his chest and unwound onto the floor, where they belonged. The pervasive heat of the truck sunk through his clothes, right into his bones, warming him to his core, and his ratty, unwashed sweatshirt became instead a pillow, squashed between his cheek and the window's cool glass.

He was tired, and not just from the night's interrupted sleep. A month's worth of anxiety and stress was lifted, left behind on the side of the road. Merlin was in a car, safe (at least for the duration of this trip). And in the absence of this crushing weight he could finally feel how spent he truly was.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must have, because the next thing he knew he was waking up with a start.

He jerked to his left, and his head smacked into something hard. But he barely noticed. Mostly because there was a meaty hand petting his hair.

"Fuck," he gasped, scrambling to sit upright, batting the alien limb away. The truck, the hitchhiking, he'd almost forgotten, in lieu of what felt like the best sleep of his life. His heart was pounding from the second rude awakening of the day, racing away at a speed that was, he felt fairly certain, above normal human range, a speed that would have caused it to burst just a few weeks ago. The heat had not stopped blasting since he feel asleep, and now the once soothing heat felt suffocating. He was covered with a small sheen of sweat. They weren't moving anymore, but idling on the shoulder, and the singing on the radio had turned into the clear, bell-like voice of a female newscaster. The green numbers on the dash read 1:03.

Wide eyed, Merlin scuttled sideways in his seat, back pressed up against the door, putting as much space between him and the hair-petter as he could. His hand had fallen away, but Merlin felt no less uneasy, and the expectant, crooked grin settled beneath the man's moustache didn't help matters in the slightest.

A feeling of resignation began to uncurl in Merlin's empty stomach.

"Come on now, kid." He gestured down to his crotch. Merlin looked down to see the man's jeans hugely tented.

"It ain't gonna suck itself."

There was only a tiny jerk forward and down before he stopped himself. He didn't have to. He didn't have to do this. It wouldn't be the first time, of course, he'd done it before. It was before he'd been any good at pickpocketing, before he knew what time the restaurants threw out their leftovers and in which bins. He'd wanted to last a bit longer before he succumbed to prostitution, he remembered wanting to survive at least a month before it came to that, as if that would make a depraved and shameful act more forgivable and understandable, but you'd be surprised how quickly going three days without food can break down your moral constitutions.

But that had been different. He'd consented before hand, he'd known the deal going in. It wasn't sprung on him last minute like this. He'd been bloody paid.

Even with his newfound powers, even with this sleek new body, it took a moment to gather his courage. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

"No." It was soft, but he'd said it.

"Whatja expect, a free ride?" The man crowed, looking at Merlin in total surprise, eyes raised nearly into his greying hair.

Merlin didn't answer.

"Well alright," The man sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes like this was some huge hardship, "your trip ends here, then."

The choice was clear: sex or abandonment on the side of the road.

 _But not...necessarily..._ Said a chillingly deep, unfamiliar choice inside his own head. _Not necessarily..._

Merlin's heartbeat, slowly calming, sped up once more. He could feel the blood rushing through his veins, the tensing of his muscles and tightening of his jaw.

 _You could take the truck._

The voice growled to him.

 _You could take it...go anywhere you wanted, drive anywhere. Take all his things, leave him on the roadside...it's only what he was going to do to you...it's only what he deserves...you could do it… It would be easy... Too easy..._

For a split second an image flashed across his mind's eye. The trucker, slumped across his steering wheel, the insides of his throat sprayed across the windshield. His face, pale and bloodless, his eyes wide and empty. Merlin's hands, covered with his hot lifeblood, coated like he was wearing red gloves. The air was filled with the thick scent of freshly spilt blood and death, and his chest was heaving with excitement. He felt strong, he felt powerful, unstoppable, victorious, snuffing out the life of another so easily... he hadn't lived a second until this moment, and his fingers, topped with thick, deadly claws hummed with the need to do it again, to plunge through the tissue paper skin of another neck and rip it out, his skin itched with it, with the urge to hurt, and he could, he could do it, no one could stop him, the nearest town, it couldn't be far-

"You best get out before I change my mind, and forget to be nice, boy."

Reality was back. Merlin felt sick. He scrambled to open the door before he had time to reconsider his options, doing that trucker a bigger favor than he could ever possibly know.

The night air felt cool on his skin as he watched tail lights recede into the distance, and even though he knew that before long he'd be cold, for now it helped him keep his head, which was spinning.

What the fuck was that? What _the fuck_ was that? He tried to stay calm, but he was shaking. He'd never had thoughts like that. Never. Not even when he was...

The bite had transformed his body, that much was obvious. But his mind? Before, he'd thought it untouched, but now?

He didn't want to kill. He didn't. He didn't want to hurt anybody, that's why he had fucking left- that's why he was on this godforsaken road! But... For a second there... He had wanted...

He stumbled to the nearest tree trunk and leaned against it for support. Was this his future? Drowning in an unstoppable need to kill until he broke? Became a murderer as well as a monster? Did he become more and more like an animal until there was nothing if him left? Until he was 100% beast? He sucked down cool air and tried not to vomit.

The forest seemed very big, and very empty, and he, very, very alone.

A glance skyward showed him the moon, bright, ghostly white, and so irrelevant to him until recently. It was more than three quarters full. He couldn't have more than a few days. Surely this was why, the reason behind his sudden... Surely he wasn't going mad?

He groaned and clamped his jaw shut, his stomach in knots. He didn't even recognize himself.

Then he swore, to himself, to the forest, to his mother, swore that he'd stop himself before he became a killer. By any means necessary.

All illusions of a decent place to sleep that night were out the window by this point.

Wandering away from the road (but not too far; he had to be able to find his way back, after all) Merlin's only thought was to find a pile of leaves or a soft enough piece of earth to curl up and effectively pass out on. And in the morning... Well. He'd figure something out.

It was hard to tell how far he was going due to the lack of streetlights or noise of traffic, but he couldn't have been more than a half mile in when he found a small rock free area, fairly sheltered with trees and decided that it would have to do.

He was busy kicking a few dead leaves into the space with the goal of making it at least marginally more comfortable (although seeing as his most recent comparison was a bench he supposed he couldn't really complain). Looking back, he supposed the crunch of dead leaves, the current preoccupation about his apparent mental deterioration, and the fact that he was stranded in the woods must have distracted him from hearing the footsteps.

"There you are, mate."

As sudden as a blink he was aware of the bodies behind him. He whipped around and his quickening heart was greeted by the sight of three newcomers, two of which followed slightly behind the third who was in front. The hair on the back of his neck tingled as it stood up, his stomach dropping down to his knees. He could just tell, could just taste it in the air, in his gut, these guys were like him- dangerous. Werewolves.

What good was it living like this if he couldn't even venture into a forest knowing he was the most fearful creature in there?

Despite the late hour, none of them appeared tired and Merlin could only hope he didn't look as exhausted as he felt.

"Told 'ya I smelled 'em, Cen, didn't I?" Said the one on the right, gleefully.

Merlin was a bit ashamed that he could not say the same about them, even though they had more than double his number. What a shit werewolf he made.

"Congratulations, Cornelius, you're not completely useless all of the time." The man in front drawled, ignoring his friend's protest of "It's Neil! Honestly!" To Merlin, he stuck out his hand.

"Cenred." He greeted softly.

Cenred was, there was no use denying it, easy on the eyes. He had dark, shaggy hair that fell around his shoulders, but in a way that said "badass," not "unwashed." His eyes were a light, steel gray, and gave off the aura of undeniable authority. His build of thick muscle didn't exactly undermine this estimation. This was not a man you wanted as an enemy.

Surprised as he was at the pointlessness of such a polite gesture in the midsts of a midnight forest meetup, Merlin shook the proffered hand. It seemed only civil. But even so, he hesitated before giving his name. Who wandered the woods at this hour of night? But, he betrayed himself, _he_ was here. And, after all, it would seem rude after Cenred had so readily offered his own. Besides, it was only a name.

"Merlin."

"Merlin. My friend here smelled an unfamiliar werewolf miles back."

"Best tracker in the pack," Neil said proudly. Compared to his companions he was on the scrawny side, but had unusually large, sharp teeth. He looked fast.

The third companion snorted. "Yeah. And it still took two hours." He was taller than Cenred but didn't have his muscular build. His black hair was shorn close to his head.

Neil gave him a one armed shove, which was returned with more force, which led to loud growl. Neil looked ready to fight, and Merlin had the feeling the shoving would have quickly escalated if Cenred had not turn to fix them with one could, silent stare.

"It is true that you've given us quite the night, hunting you down."

"Oh. Um. Sorry?" Merlin fidgeted slightly as Cenred's impenetrable stare turned on him instead. He was completely nonplussed as to why they went through all the trouble. "I, uh, hitched a ride off a trucker."

"Chose an odd place to get off, didn't you?" The third werewolf intoned, clearly annoyed at the effort that had gone into this little rendezvous.

Merlin blushed and began stammering out a weak explanation, but luckily he was saved before he got too far into any variation of "I picked stranded over sexual favors."

"It was hardly worth our time, Cen." He gestured at Merlin. "He's only a pup. Hardly a trophy. You can smell it on him."

"Um. I'm eighteen." Merlin couldn't help adding, because, well, he was an adult, after all.

"Gili here is not referring to your human age." Cenred said, not unkindly, as Gili rolled his eyes. "But he forgets that he, too, was newly bit when we met him."

"I bet he hasn't seen more than three full moons." Gili's voice was petulant.

Cenred turned to him. "If you are so eager to return to the pack, then go, Gili."

Gili looked uncomfortable, his head lowered apologetically to examine the ground. He didn't move.

"No, thank you." He murmured.

"Then be silent." Cenred snapped. The voice he used to talk to Merlin was much sweeter by comparison. "Merlin. You must be confused. We all remember how difficult the first few months are, especially alone. Come back to our den with us. We can help you, teach you how to tap into your senses, how to track, how to fight, how to hunt, how to stay calm during transformations, how to be a werewolf, in short. We can answer any questions you have. And I can personally promise you that we have much better accommodations than… that." he eyed the leaf pile with undisguised distaste.

Shelter. Food. Beds. And above all, answers. It was more than he ever dared to hope for.

"You can... The full moon. You can make it... less painful?" The memories of his first transformation haunted him, in both mind and body. The thought that he might undergo that torture again... And again and again, for the rest of his life... he shuddered.

Cenred smiled, watching him closely. "It'll never feel pleasant. It'll never feel good. But we can make it feel... Not too terrible. Nothing like your first, I promise. You might even come to enjoy it, in some way. In fact, as we speak, our alpha is working on something that eases the effects of the full moon, the ones that you are no doubt already feeling"

The image of the trucker, cold, dead, slumped lifelessly over his steering wheel, flashed again through his mind, but he put it side for now. "Your alpha..." He said slowly, looking from Neil, to brooding Gili, back to Cenred. "I thought...aren't you...?"

Cenred smirked. "No. Should you meet the alpha, you would know it." But he didn't look unhappy at being mistaken for one. "This is just a fraction of our pack. There are more at the den, all waiting to welcome you with open arms. What do you say, Merlin?"

Well. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

Merlin didn't know what he expected. Certainly not a cave or a hollowed out hole in the ground- surely "den" was just used for theatrical purposes. Den, however, turned out to be more accurate than he'd have imagined... If in fact the "den" referred to a crack den.

The cabin was old, prehistorically so, that much was obvious from its appearance, although it seemed to be roomy enough. Lights flooded from the downstairs room, lighting up yellow squares of grass.

The porch steps creaked in an ominous cadence as they ascended (the second one was skipped as it was split clean through the middle) and Merlin couldn't deny feeling nervous. As much as he tried to hide it, the others somehow knew, Neil and Cenred exchanging glances as Gili turned to look at him with a sneer and the unmistakeable air of satisfaction.

Inside, the living room was lit by one pale yellow bulb, hanging nakedly from the ceiling. Despite its bareness, the room did give off a sort of animalistic feel as dirt, footprints, paw prints, and claw marks all seemed to vie to outnumber the others on the once white walls and wooden floor. A yellow mattress was shoved in a corner, on top of which seemed to be a nest made out of a few carefully arranged pillows and blankets. But what demanded the majority of Merlin's attention was the large, defeated- looking couch on the opposite wall where two boys were lounging.

Well, one boy was lounging. He took up most of the space with his head tipped back over the armrest and his eyes closed, arms folded carefully over his chest. The other did not look nearly as relaxed. He was sitting up straight as a board, his hand clenched in his lap, fingers constantly twisting over each other. His black eyes were fixed on the door, already waiting when they walked in.

"What the fuck took you so long, C- oh. Who's this?"

"Sorry for the hold up. Ed. This is Merlin. Merlin, this is Edwin and Valiant. He was just bit, Val."

Valiant slowly unfurled himself from his supine position with careful, deliberate movements, sitting up and resting his elbows on his knees. His dark eyes flashed as they lifted to examine the newcomer and Merlin discovered that Cenred was right. He did know who the alpha was. There was a pull inside him, deep in his gut, an automatic, involuntary need to submit. Valiant's eyes were pure intense power and dominance. He was right to lead this group. Even though Merlin was standing and Valiant was sitting, he felt intimidated. Just having him near was enough to make his palms damp with sweat.

Merlin he had a crazy urge to show his neck or bow his head or... maybe give him something. A nice present. He had nothing to give though... Kneeling! Kneeling was the next best thing. He would kneel. He stumbled forward in a sort of a half dip before sanity kicked in again.

Get a grip, Merlin, no one else is kneeling (having confirmed this with a quick glance around). He tried to play off his awkward lunge forward like he had to lean down to scratch a sudden itch on his knee, but Valiant have him a dark smile and Merlin knew he hadn't been fooled in the least.

"Welcome, Merlin." He said silkily, " It's always nice to meet another wolf."

Merlin gave a haggard shrug, eyes darting from Valiant's face to the floor. It was very difficult to look directly into his eyes.

"Great. We're all here, five plus one guest, can we go now?" Ed asked.

Valiant stood up. His figure was quite as impressive as his stare.

"Edwin has been most impatient to begin, Cenred. You did take such a long time."

"Sorry, Val. He was hitchhiking. You know how annoying it is to track a truck down the freeway."

"How annoying it is for the people actually doing the tracking, you mean?" Neil butted in, arms crossed.

Neither turned toward him. "Cornelius was absolutely instrumental in hunting him down, coincidentally." Cenred said blandly.

"So I hear." He nodded toward Merlin. "Did you tell him?"

Cenred clucked his tongue, "oh, no, no, I didn't want to ruin the surprise." They grinned at each other.

There was a pregnant pause where everyone looked to Valiant, waiting.

"Alright," he murmured after a pause, "let's go."

"Finally," sighed Ed as the group began to move.

Merlin turned to go back outside, but the rest of the group was headed in the opposite direction, deeper into the house. Confused, he followed them, bringing up the rear of their odd parade as they filled up the stairs. The closer they got, the ticker the air became with excitement and anticipation. Merlin could practically taste the tang of it on his tongue as the very molecules around him seemed to buzz. The feeling was contagious, and Merlin to found his stomach clenching with suspense. At the landing, Valiant turned and entered the first bedroom on the left,with the rest of the group crowding behind him, each scrambling silently to squeeze in first. Merlin was at a complete loss... Until he passed the doorway.

His first thought was that he was going to be sick. He was going to be violently ill all over the floor in front of five badass strangers. But he somehow managed to swallow it down past his heart, currently lodged in his throat.

It was a girl. A girl tied-up and chained to the radiator. Her hands were behind her back, a grubby gag forced deep into her mouth. She looked like she knew exactly how the next few hours of her life were going to go. She looked terrified.

Sobbing through her gag with red and puffy eyes, she backed up against the radiator, looking at each of their faces in turn. What she was looking for, Merlin couldn't say. Pity? Weakness? A notation of release?

It wasn't likely she found it.

"Shit, she smells good, Val. You outdid yourself."

All the other boys had their heads thrown back, their noses stuck up into the air, breathing in deep. The fact was... She did smell good. She stank of fear, desperation, and hopeless anticipation. All the qualities of a cornered animal. And it made him feel... Strong. Strong and powerful. It was exhilarating. It made his heart beat quick, but not with nerves. It made his skin tingle. It wasn't like standing in a filthy room with an unwashed, tied-up girl, it was like standing in a bakery.

It was disgusting. Because here was a woman, about to die and Merlin was comparing her to chocolate chip cookies. He shivered, but from pain or pleasure, he couldn't tell. He began to breathe out of his mouth

Edwin stepped closer, his hands full of claws and his mouth full of teeth and holy shit, _holy shit_ he was gonna kill this girl- rip out her throat right in front of Merlin's eyes. His blood ran cold. The tension in the room was so high it was about to burst like an overfilled balloon and his arteries along with it because he'd swear on his mother's life his blood pressure had never been so high in his goddamn life. He had to do something, he had to do something, this woman was going to do right in front of his frozen, cowardly body…

A loud sigh broke the tension. "It seems Edwin has forgotten his manners. We have a guest." Valiant said pointedly.

Edwin wheeled around, snarling, face fierce with rage. "She's mine! She is mine! It's my _turn_!"

Neil and Gili exchanged fearful glances. Valiant's reply was low but deep, a rumbling growl that had the hairs on the back of Merlin's neck vibrating and had his stomach twisting. The rest of the pack, Edwin included, was starting shamedly at the floor.

"Let Merlin do it."

Merlin broke out into an icy sweat. No, no, no, no, he didn't want to.

Someone pushed him forward and he nearly stumbled, but ended up catching himself last minute. Three feet from the girl the picture was even sharper. He could see the shiny tear tracks down her face, the fat freckle on her left cheekbone. she might have been around 20. Her hair, brown, was frizzy and unkempt, like the her clothes, stained and ripped, and Merlin knew, just knew, she was homeless. Just like him. He wondered what promises Valiant had used to lure here. Food? Shelter? No doubt they were the same ones made to him. Her sobs and screams were muffled, but sharp and ragged. Small irises rolled in bloodshot eyes.

Behind him there was an annoyed sigh and a chuckle. "A tenner says he can't get his claws out," Neil whispered. His tone said that this would be something to be ashamed of, like failing to perform with an eager female in your bed.

"He'll do it." Cenred's voice was more of a command than a statement of faith.

He didn't want to. But the worst part was that he wasn't not sure that he could resist. There was no denying that the idea was tempting. The smell was... Intoxicating. And the buzzing energy of the room only egged him on. A part of him definitely wanted to. How big that part of him was he didn't know. But the rest of him didn't like it.

He could imagine it, though. Oh, could he imagine it vividly. The scarlet spray like that of a fountain, hot life sustaining blood pooling on the floor, her delicate life in his hands, dependent on his very will and whim, watching the light leave her eyes, feeling the pathetic flutter of her heart as it desperately tried to keep pumping what little blood was left in her get veins until he finally felt still...

There was a sudden, sharp pain in his fingertips. But as quickly as it had come it was gone, like a slap. There was a muttered "told 'ja" behind him. He looked down. His claws had slid out, quite unintentionally.

But even so he remained motionless, and time ticked on until the air tasted less like excitement and more like frustration.

"Merlin." A smooth, low voice in his ear- Cenred's. "It's alright. Don't think about it so much. This is just reestablishing the rightful order of the food chain. You don't feel bad when you eat a chicken, do you? You don't feel bad when you order a hamburger. Werewolves don't feel bad about killing humans. We were made to kill. It's nature. Survival of the fittest. That's all."

He heard the words but he didn't want to listen. They were too inviting, too juicy. He already wanted to do it. The beast inside him agreed with these words eagerly, but the human part of him knew without question that it was wrong. What was wrong with himself for even questioning that murder might be ok? It made him even angrier. Shit, this was all so messed up…

A long pause.

"Hey look, if he doesn't do it, there's gonna be an issue."

"He'll do it, Ed, shut up."

Cenred swiveled back to Merlin, calm, soothing, rational. "Listen. I know it can seem awful at first, but it's not. You have a need to kill now. A biological need. I know what's it's like- You feel like you're going crazy the first time you want to rip someone's throat out, but you're not. You can't stop thinking about it- what it would look like, what it would feel like, what it would smell like. That feeling? It doesn't go away, Merlin. It just builds and builds until that's all you can think about, until you lose it. This woman here? Yeah. She dies. And it sucks for her. But her death is saving the _dozens_ you will kill when the bloodlust breaks you. A building full of people, a school full, an entire neighborhood full. She's not dying for nothing. It's the right thing, Merlin."

On some level, it made sense. Why not kill one if it would save dozens? And yet...

"We didn't rip her from the arms of her crying family, for christsakes. She was in the streets. Probably has been for years. No one is going to miss her." Gili said in exasperation from behind them, a low growl tinging his voice.

Cenred shifts his weight. "Here's the thing, Merlin." He muttered, "I'm not going to beat around the bush, here. This is a closer knit group with a well kept secret. I'm sure you understand that we can't exactly have you running around, shouting about our operations. If you do the right thing, only one person needs to die tonight, hmm?"

The threat was obvious. So that was how it was going to be. Her… or him?

The girl still had tears running down her face, her little pathetic whimpers barely audible. Shaking, seemingly uncontrollably, she looked up at Merlin. Her eyes were mud brown. Exactly the same color as Will's. His best friend.

He'd promised he'd kill himself before he became a monster. But what if he already was one?

Only one thing left to do.

He made it out of that house through a combination of luck and stupidity.

He started purposefully forward, but swerved suddenly left, and one hard push off with his powerful legs sent him head first through the window in a move that probably would have knocked him out a few weeks ago. The excited gasps of his audience quickly turned to snarls of rage as he somehow landed without breaking anything.

"Get him!"

They were immediately after him. His arms and scalp were burning in thin lines where the glass had cut him, but he could barely feel it through the rush of adrenaline.

He was off, running faster than he had ever run before in his entire life, and knowing that if he slowed down he'd be dead. All his energy went into speed and the trees flew by him at a frightening rate. He'd never been faster than anyone before and it was a small miracle no one had grabbed him yet, or that he hadn't tripped on a stray root. He could hear footsteps right on his heels- he wasn't sure how many, but definitely more than one. The angry panting growl of pursuers seemed to be right in his ear, spurring him on through low branches that whipped painfully at his face as he barrelled gracelessly through them.

Someone pounced on him, hitting him hard in the shoulder and they went down, rolling over loose dirt and twigs, both fighting like mad to stay on top.

By sheer luck it was Merlin. With his head still spinning and his legs tangled in a heap below him he found himself looking down at Neil, his eyes dark with rage, his pointed teeth snapping up at Merlin. He struggled to right himself but Neil was holding fast into his sweatshirt and pulling him down toward those dangerous teeth with a force that seemed far too strong for his frame.

With an almighty, wordless yell, Merlin wrenched himself hard to the left. There was a loud ripping noise and the tension was suddenly gone. He stumbled, his hands breaking his fall, but was just as quickly scrambling to his feet, running before he'd fully regained footing so that he nearly fell again but pure desperation to get away kept him going, even as he felt a hand swiped for his back.

Cool, Fall air was now flooding into his ruined sweatshirt (his only warm clothing, damn it) but he barely registered it over the sheen of cold sweat. He had no idea where he was going. He had no idea if he was even going in the same direction as he was when he left the house. He could be running into endless woods, he could be running straight at Valiant- how long could he keep it up? He could still hear their footsteps, even closer now than before. How long would they chase him? All he knew was that he couldn't stop running.

The footsteps behind him suddenly stopped, as if his pursuers had ran smack into a brick wall.

 _What?_

He realized a half second too late there was someone on his left and then-

He tried to swerve but steel arms enveloped him.

But he wasn't going down without a fight. He wasn't going to be chained up to the radiator and mauled. They wanted him to kill? Fine. He'd take Valiant with him, if he could. Or at least Neil. He yelled, writhing like a madman, like the cornered animal he was. He was out of his mind. He had nothing to lose. His arms had been pinned uselessly to his side when he was grabbed, though he tried fruitlessly to free them. He kicked his legs backwards hard, and they connected with someone but he was only squeezed tighter, so tight he could barely breathe, so tight he thought he bones might soon crack. His heart beat hard, pounding against his ribs like it was ready to burst from his chest. This was the end.

"Fuck- me- " said a voice in his ear, heavy with the effort of holding him, "he's squirming like a fucking bitch- a little _help_ , Perce? Quick, grab his legs before he-"

There was a change inside him, a shift. As suddenly as when someone knows they're about to be sick, Merlin knew something was wrong. There was a stabbing pain in his chest and he screamed involuntarily, but the sound of it was oddly distorted. His body jerked violently of its own accord and he was abruptly dropped. He tried to run but he couldn't even make it one step. He couldn't so much as stand. Blinding pain was spreading, agonizingly slowly, throughout his entire body. He began to panic. This was just like last time- just like last ti- but he couldn't be. There was no full moon- there was no full moon! He had days still, he was sure of it! it was impossible! _What was going on?_

"Great! There he fucking goes!"

There were more voices, softer, in the background.

"...in my territory. That makes him mine."

"He's only a pup, Arthur. Hardly of use."

"Great, then you won't mind if I keep him."

"He's ours. We found him miles from h-"

Crouched on all fours, Merlin was finally sick, coughing up the contents of his stomach and then some, retching bile into the dirt. His vision was blurred by pain that had spread to his face. Cold sweat dripped from his suddenly heated and squirming skin. He couldn't close his mouth anymore because his teeth were long and pointed. His organs felt like they were playing musical chairs around his rib cage and he cried out loudly, clutching his stomach but his voice was foreign and low; inhuman. Valiant and his pack were nothing, nothing, compared to this.

"All I wanted to do tonight was watched the damn game but nooo!"

"Which game?"

"Any of them would be better than _this_!"

Someone grabbed at his shoulder, their touch white hot, and Merlin groaned, helplessly.

"No! Don't fucking touch him, you'll make it worse. Talk him down!"

"I'm not sure I'm the best-"

"I swear to god, Percy."

"I don't think you want a fight tonight, Arthur."

"I don't think anyone does-"

Someone crouched down beside him. "Um. Hello, sir..."

A different, more feminine voice. "Oh for- move over!"

Someone knelt beside him. "It's going to be alright, okay? Shh… Everything's going to be just fine, I promise. We're not going to let Valiant get you, you're safe, everything's okay. We just need you to calm down, okay? Just take some deep breaths with me, okay, deep breaths..."

It was not going to be okay. His breaths came in ragged shreds to raw lungs. There wasn't enough oxygen in the world for him. His claws dug into the earth as he flung his head back with a strangled cry. Pinpricks covered his body as coarse hair forced it's way through his pores. He could feel his bones beginning to shift, rotating in their sockets, joints bending backwards and he screamed again but all he heard was a howl.

"It's alright, it's alright, just breathe! You don't have to transform, you're safe! With me, now, in... And out..."

"Forget it! He's too far gone, Gwen!"

"Just Great! Perfect! I really wanted to spend my night running around after a young werewolf!"

" _Shut up_ , Gwaine!"

A new voice. "Oh, for _fuck's_ sake!"

There was a sudden pain in the back of his head. Darkness.


End file.
